#what kinda period drama level yearning...

[bronanlynch]

for the ship meme: any dimitri fireemblem ship of your choice 👀

I'm so sorry this is like a million years later anyway. it's time for you to hear abt dimitri/dedue

What made you ship it? so in the spin-off game (three hopes, the one that I played first) you can go around and talk to each of the three house leaders and ask them abt each of the students in their class and dimitri says, when asked abt dedue, "He tends to keep to himself, but he possesses one of the kindest hearts of anyone I know. I'm proud to call him my…vassal." so of course I want instantly intrigued. and then every time they talk to or abt each other from then on they sound like gay people in a period drama so. y'know (exhibit A) (exhibit B)

What are your favorite things about the ship? well the devotion and yearning is incredibly tasty, and I am compelled by how they are capable of both encouraging & supporting each other in doomed ways (dedue helping dimitri with his self-destructive revenge quest even though he knows that it's hurting dimitri and will likely lead to both of their deaths for a complicated mix of reasons including that he believes that dimitri is doing the right thing and also that he doesn't care if dimitri is doing the right thing or not bc dimitri saved his life and was one of the few people who wasn't super shitty towards him and is one of the only people who expresses any sort of interest in helping dedue's people) (however even at his lowest point when he doesn't care abt anything or anyone except avenging his family he still cares abt dedue and wants him to survive, in routes where you fight them he has lines about wanting dedue to live) and also in ways that are not doomed and will help them both heal from all of the various horrors. like, sorry for sikenposting but they are extremely "the gentleness that comes not from the absence of violence but despite the abundance of it." also, the bit from exhibit B above (the highest level of their support with each other in three hopes) where dimitri talks longingly abt them being able to run away together to live a simpler life with each other

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? to be clear the game is Not Great abt how it handles racism wrt dedue and duscur (the country he's from) but also plenty of people do some (unfortunately predictable) shitty racist things when they write fic abt him. also, significantly less serious but I do genuinely think that the happiest ending for both of them involves dimitri not having to be king and them just. living their lives together as ordinary people. my other other unpopular opinion is that even if you don't ship them they are still canonically incredibly important to each other and I think it's kinda weird if a post-canon fic abt dimitri does not establish what dedue is up to

#aren't you proud of me i went the entire post without talking abt my trans dimitri agenda #thank you!! #omnipah #dreaming.txt #ask

[nvvermore]

Music of the Night

Amaryllis has been searching for Beatrice all night [continuation of what a night, what a crowd! @juliandev0rak ]

words: 2.6k

cw: mentions of alcohol

accompaniment

—

The ballroom is packed once again this year, full of extravagant partygoers dressed to the nines, each with a mask befitting such a grand occasion. Amaryllis sees so many different kinds of costumes and dress from their place on the main stage, still awed by all the glamour surrounding them, year after year. But despite the diligent way their eyes have been scanning across the crowd throughout their set, they can never seem to spot the one who amazes them most.

“...And I felt afraid, for my heart said, ‘Get ready to fall’...”

For all the times they’d stressed the importance of focus to Beatrice during their lessons together, Amaryllis was a horrible example tonight. This is hardly their first masquerade. They are a professional, a highly esteemed act, graced with the opportunity and patronage to stand on such a stage. And yet, they certainly aren’t acting like one. No one else could tell, thank the gods, but they know that their mind is wandering, thinking about how it’s a waste of time to sing these songs when Beatrice might not even be in the crowd to hear them.

It was only a few hours into the night, but thus far Amaryllis had been too busy with official duties to track Beatrice down. Their eyes wandered then too, catching each time they’d spotted that familiar shade of green. By the time they were to get on stage they were restless and fed up with their courtly duties.

“...When I lost my heart, at the ball.”

The last notes of the song are struck, and the orchestra begins to transition into an instrumental piece as applause for them— and the ballroom full of dancing guests— cuts through the room. Amaryllis smiles and bows, keeping the mask on for just a few more moments.

When Amaryllis finally descends from the stage and merges back into the party, they need to stop for a moment to catch their breath. Which turns out to be a mistake that gives Nadia— who must have been waiting for their exit— the chance to step in. With her is a baron from somewhere Amaryllis doesn’t catch. It matters little, because they’re quick to pick up on Nadia’s terse smile and the plea for help in her eyes.

His request for a dance is granted, and it isn’t long after they’ve stepped into the dance floor proper that Amaryllis sees just why she wanted rid of him. Chatty, and a little self obsessed was the nicest description they could come up with. As he prattles on and Amaryllis tries to keep up with his off-rhythm box step and manages to drown out his voice with that of the songstress who’d taken to the stage after them. Their eyes begin to wander once again, looking past the baron’s shoulder into the crowd as they shuffle across the floor.

It’s a verse or two and a swap in positions— which is a clear relief to the baron— before Amaryllis finally sees a flash of carefully styled curls in that perfect shade of honey-kissed brown and—

Oh.

When Beatrice turns their way, the sight of her alone leaves Amaryllis breathless. She’s swathed in layers of cream tulle and golden embroidery, standing out against the reds and violets of the ballroom decor. Her face is obscured by a rabbit-eared mask, and though it complements her, they’d rather not miss out on that pretty pink flush likely to be on her cheeks. Now they are the dancer with the faulty footwork; Beatrice was so captivating, she’d managed to make Amaryllis stumble.

Before the baron can inquire if Amaryllis is alright, they quickly and efficiently excuse themself from the dance floor. It’s against their better judgment, and they hope he doesn’t manage to run into Nadia again. But they’ve spent the entire night so preoccupied with Beatrice, they’d be a real fool to lose track of her now.

As Amaryllis slips through the crowd to get to Beatrice, her eyes are on them, and can feel the curious glances from guests who are eager to find out who the infamous songstress is looking at with such reverence. Finally before her, they can’t stop the smile that finds itself on their painted lips.

“I’ve been looking for you all night.”

Her face lights up. “I’ve been looking for you too.”

“I’ve missed you,” they reveal, and Beatrice’s eyes go wide behind her golden mask. What they just admitted to dawns on Amaryllis, and they feel a very uncommon pang of embarrassment. Quickly, they divert the conversation. “May I have this dance?” They hold out a hand, and for a moment they worry she might not take it.

But with a shy smile and a nod, her hand slides into theirs.

Amaryllis leads Beatrice back through the crowd, back onto the dance floor. Her free hand comes to rest on their shoulder, and their hand slides around to her back, notably lower than it needs to be. Together they effortlessly blend in with the rest of the couples, gliding across the marble flooring, no stumbling or missteps. The sweet voice of the soprano from the stage cuts through the room, and it occurs to them that she’d begun to sing one of their own compositions.

“...First time I heard your voice, moonlight burst into the room…”

But Amaryllis can feel how nervous Beatrice is right now, with her stiff posture and how her hold on them tightens. They hate to see her upset, but it makes them feel so weak, how she draws them closer and holds onto them tighter. That their presence and touch is what soothes her.

Amaryllis tilts their head down to murmur into her ear. “What I’ve taught you about tension also extends to dancing,” their voice is low, and they didn’t miss the way she’d gasped, so softy, once they’d begun to speak.

“I know, it’s just,” she bites her lip, and her eyes flit to them for only a moment before she’s back to staring out into the crowd. “There are a lot of eyes on you.”

“Because they’re all jealous I’m the one dancing with you.”

“Amie,” she chides lightly, their name drawn out by a nervous giggle. Amaryllis doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s flushed, the low cut of her dress revealing the pink tinge to her chest.

“...You are so good for me…”

“Close your eyes,” Amaryllis instructs, “just focus on me, abeille.” Once Beatrice shuts her eyes, they lead her into a twirl, spinning her around and bringing her to a stop with her back to their chest. Her hair is fashioned in such a way that keeps her neck exposed, and this time when Amaryllis tilts their head down to whisper in her ear, they ghost their lips oh so faintly over her skin. “There doesn’t have to be anyone here but us.”

“...I’ll never be this happy again…”

Before Amaryllis ends up indulging themself any further, they spin her back around. Beatrice’s eyes are still shut, but she’s relaxed, her grip on them light and her shoulders back. The tempo speeds up, and she doesn’t miss a beat as they float across the floor. If they had known she was such a lovely dancer, they would have found an excuse to dance with her before now. When Beatrice opens her eyes again, she holds Amaryllis’s gaze, which hasn’t left her since she’d taken their hand.

“...You and I, and no one else.”

The song comes to a close, and the boisterous applause that comes with the conclusion of the performance is what finally breaks Beatrice out of her trance. She freezes, glancing all around with a mixture of disbelief and unease hidden behind her mask. For a split second, Amaryllis fears they’re the problem, but the idea is banished as she huddles just a little closer to them. An idea strikes.

“Come with me.” Hands still laced together, Amaryllis wraps an arm around her shoulders and leads her away from the dance floor and the guests, up one of the smaller, less busy staircases off the side of the ballroom.

“Where are we going?”

“To get some air.” They push through one of many sets of doors off the upper level of the ballroom. It’s a balcony, one Amaryllis knows is often left deserted during the festivities— it’s where they always go each year when they need a moment away from the excitement. It’s a sizable space, close enough to still hear the orchestra clearly, but left undecorated and dimly lit by only a few decorative lanterns. But tonight the full moon is shining bright, and when they turn back to Beatrice, they’re awestruck all over again.

Under the moonlight, she’s ethereal. The way it reflects off of her golden gown and illuminates her features, as though she herself is glowing. But what really does Amaryllis in is when they realize she’s staring back at them, and perhaps the mask is concealing her face too much, because they don’t understand how she could look at them with reverence.

Perhaps Beatrice has the same idea, because then she’s reaching up, her fingers are then dancing at the edge of their golden half-mask. When they make no move to stop her, she slips it off. Her own mask follows, and she rests them on a stone bench a few steps away.

She holds her hand out. “May I have this dance?”

“Always.” Amaryllis takes Beatrice into their arms once more, and this time they’re just a short breadth away from each other. When they begin to step together, it feels even more effortless than before, with Beatrice relaxed and smiling from the start. “Now, yours are the only eyes on me.”

Before Beatrice can manage a response, the orchestra’s distant waltz comes to an end, and the tempo picks up for a polka.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for?”

“This!”

Quickly, Amaryllis leads the two of them smoothly into a triple step, skipping and twirling together around the wide open balcony. They swing Beatrice out and spin her once, twice, round and round, golden tulle swirling wide around her. When they pull her back in, she’s beaming, eyes bright under the moonlight and face lit up with her smile.

“Hold on!” Amaryllis tells her, and suddenly they’re swinging her off the ground to spin the two of them in circles. Beatrice squeals, her arms wrapping around their neck and holding tight. She buries her face into their shoulder, but they can still hear her melodious laughter. As the spinning slows, her legs find themselves around Amaryllis’s waist. They’re surprised by her boldness, but they love it, and the dizzying rush they feel isn’t from the spinning but from all the ways they’ve pictured her with her legs around their waist before.

She’s taller than them like this, looking down at them, and now there’s no mask in the way, no excuse for them not to acknowledge the way Beatrice looks at them. They hope she can see the same adoration in their eyes. Maybe, maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to tell her as such, just to make sure she knows how enchanting she is.

Amaryllis moves one of the hands supporting Beatrice up— across her thigh, grazing over her ass, up her back, stopping when their fingers brush her skin to cup the base of her neck.

“Amie…” she whispers, soft and drawn out, almost whiny. Her gaze flits down to their lips. Amaryllis has wanted her for so long, and they know she’s wanted it too, and suddenly they feel like a fool for not taking anything she’d give them all this time. The atmosphere of the masquerade makes it so easy to just give in, all the joy and tension and coming to a head and making people reckless, easy to blame anything that might go wrong or unrequited on adrenaline and alcohol.

Then, Beatrice rushes forward to kiss them. She’s cupping their face, thumb brushing over their left cheek so gently, a stark contrast to the eager way her lips move against theirs. Amaryllis tugs her closer, as close as they can get her, and tangles their fingers into her curls. After all this time, the months of pining for her, she feels like a dream.

But all dreams do have an end.

Abruptly, the balcony doors burst open, followed by a drunken shout. “Amie!”

Startled, Beatrice pulls away, eyes cast down as she slides back down to her feet. Her hands stay on them though, and her touch is the one thing keeping Amaryllis from giving their intruding brother an earful. Vesper strides out onto the balcony, definitely drunk and completely oblivious.

“We’ve been looking all over for you!” Julian shouts, appearing all of a sudden, equally wasted and slinging an arm around Vesper’s shoulders.

“Well perhaps I didn’t want to be found-“ Amaryllis starts, but another arrival cuts them off.

“You guys,” Asra hisses from beyond the doors, “I told you to leave them be!” He stomps into the doorway, heels clacking so hard against the stone Amaryllis is surprised they don’t break. He reaches out for Vesper and Julian, prepared to drag the two men off, until he turns to find out he’s seconds too late. “Amie, Beatrice,” he greets, tone pleasant and soft again. “I see these two already managed to interrupt you.” Asra pinches Julian’s waist in retaliation, which sends him into a fit of giggles.

“It’s quite alright,” Beatrice begins, and she lets go of them to retrieve their masks. “It’s a good time to rejoin the party anyway.” She fastens her mask into place, and Amaryllis follows suit— literally and figuratively— sliding the golden half-mask over their face.

“Is it really?” Asra asks her, with a knowing grin on his face. Clearly, there’s something going on that Amaryllis doesn’t know.

“It is,” she nods. He bounds over to her then, all traces of his previous frustration gone as he takes her arm and winks at them.

“See! No harm done!” Vesper shrugs away from Julian, grabbing onto Amaryllis to drag them back into the ballroom. From in front of them, Beatrice glances back at them in silent apology. They smile back at her, the soft, genuine smile that’s reserved only for her.

“Ohhhhhh,” Vesper draws out the sound, and then switches into their native language. “I see. Does somebody have a crush?” he taunts.

“I was in the middle of something!”

“I never thought I’d see the day! My baby sibling, in love!” He pinches Amaryllis’s uncovered cheek and they swat him away.

“I could use a drink,” they try to change the subject.

He’s serious then, or at least as serious as he’s capable of being in his state. “Didn’t go well?”

“Too well.” Amaryllis hadn’t been all that bothered by the interruption, was ready to send the two away and continue where they’d left off with Beatrice. But instead she pulled away, took her hands off of them in order to rejoin a party she wasn’t pleased to be at. They didn’t want to read into things, because Amaryllis didn’t read into things. Beatrice was prone to anxiety after all, and they hoped it was as simple as too much excitement in one night.

And they keep trying not to overthink, trying to keep the idea that she might have regrets out of their mind. There are no more dances with her, and Amaryllis never manages to sneak her away again. When Beatrice decides to retire, they almost ask to join her. But Nadia whisks her away before they can, and instead they simply kiss her hand, leaving behind a mark of crimson.

After she’s gone Amaryllis doesn’t stay much longer. They slide off their mask as they retreat to their room alone, mind lingering on the dance they shared, on their own lyrics that had been floating in the air around them.

“...I’ll never be this happy again.”

#okay i do love this n am proud of it so #literally no thoughts only them #what kinda period drama level yearning... #disgusting #amaryllis leroux #beatrice viano #beamie #amie fic #my fic #i feel like im forgetting tags but oh well